Our Lady of Sorrows
by Ai.Wun
Summary: Even as the sky clears and everything seems to be within blissful peace, another threat grows on the sea. Jack is haunted by his untold past, revisted by one that he had once called a friend, toying with his every breathing moment.
1. One

**One**

She awoke to the smell of the salty air, the sound of the water caressing the side of the ship, and the gulls off in the distance. Ah yes, the life of a pirate, how she enjoyed it. They say women are bad luck on a ship; she proved them wrong. The number of ships she had commandeered was far greater that that of other pirates or those left of them. The number of towns and cities she had over turned and robbed were countless. She stretched out her arms and felt the warmth of the sun kiss her skin. Every morning it was the same routine, she'd wake, bathe, eat and make her plans.

She clicked her tongue and her monkey came to her at once. She stroked his head and gave it a piece of fruit. The monkey chirped and rubbed its head against her hand.

"Dolores?"

She didn't answer; she only lay on her bed playing with her pet. She was trying to ignore all other sounds

"Dolores?" again he called. Still, she did not respond. He entered her cabin and found her upon the bed, her thin gown nearly falling off her shoulders. She sat up, her hair like a black river of silk embracing her body. She only glared at him, disappointed that he had disturbed her morning.

"I beg your pardon," he apologized as he bowed, placing his hat over his chest. "But you are needed on deck."

She sighed and nodded her head at him. He took his leave and shut the door, allowing her some privacy. She didn't move from her position until she was sure that he had gone away from the cabin. Clearing her throat, she began to undress.

On the outside, she was known as a cold hearted woman, heeding to none, without any mercy at all. She was skilled with weapons, quick in both mind and words. Her voice persuaded many, smooth and sweet like honey. But when she was angry, she commanded with such demand that few could disobey her. But within, she was a gentle woman, merciful and kind. No one knew her true self. There was one, however, one man that had touched her heart and turned her harsh ways into loving. A pity he was gone now.

"My lady," Aaron, a man that stuck out of the crew like a diamond in the rough, addressed her as she exited her cabin. He was basically her guardian. A man of loyalty and commitment, Aaron had hardly any flaws. He was broad in the shoulders, muscle framing his entire body, and tall, much taller than she was. In fact, he was the largest man on board.

Dolores dipped her head towards him, acknowledging him. The more she looked at him, the more she thought him beautiful. He was exquisite. His long apricot colored hair, his incomparable eyes that matched the color of the ocean waters were only a morsel of what could be explained. For over ten years, Aaron had stayed by her side, defending her. He had found her half dead upon a shipwreck, a young daughter of a noblewoman whose ship had been attacked by pirates. He was one of them. Out of pity, he took her for himself, and cared for her. Over the years, he taught her many things. But he had never ordered her to do any of his bidding. He appointed himself as her protector. And she took to the seas, becoming a pirate herself. They were partners, a lady and her sentinel, but never lovers.

"Captain, we are only a few short hours away from shore. Have you decided upon a raid or just a simple pleasure trip? If it is a raid, can we attack quietly? I adore the ambushes. If not," he said disappointingly, "we must find you a lovely gown to fit into, and the variety is great." His name was Thatcher, the same man that had awakened her that morn. He was aged, the years of memory shaping his face. He had come to work under Dolores after she had decided not to kill him after a battle with his previous band of pirates he was involved in. He was devoted and true to his word; a heavy drinker, however.

She hadn't spoken yet. She stared off into the distance, where the shoreline was just a little more than a blur upon the horizon. She fingered the ring on her right hand and shook her head.

"We will take to the wharf and enter the city," Aaron answered for her. "We must not reveal who we truly are just yet."

Thatcher rolled his eyes, still not used to the fact that Aaron responded for her most of the time. He sighed and said, "Aye, captain." He turned and shouted orders to the crew. He walked down the steps and pointed at certain people to do certain tasks.

"Is it really necessary to have him answer even the most simplest of questions?"

She needn't turn to see who it was. Lysander had a very distinct voice; one could recognize it hidden among a clash of noise. It sounded like silver hitting a crystal glass. He was young, youngest out of all the crew. He was no older than twenty, but he did not seem like it. From a line of warriors, he had the face of a young prince, though he was not of any royal blood. He was one of the six men that protected Dolores. Out of them all, he was the swiftest, being also the smallest in height and build. But his speed was his advantage; he could avoid even the most brutal of attacks. His attacks and moves were quick, but it could not compare to his mouth.

"Honestly, you have a mouth for a reason; it won't hurt to use it."

Dolores glanced at him, "It won't kill you to keep your mouth shut, that's for sure." She crossed her arms and stared off into the distance. "It's been proven as a fact that you can breathe through your nose as well, Lysander. You won't die from sealing those lips of yours."

He smiled, flashing his white teeth, "Well, at least we know you're still sane, having not spoken for the past three days." He leaned against the railing, his head tilted in the same direction as hers. "So," he began. "Care to tell what you're looking for at that place?"

She looked at him, not moving her head but only her eyes in such a way that it made Lysander wince. She looked back and her eyes narrowed. Together, she and Aaron spoke, "None of your business."

Then Dolores grinned, interest filling her face, "Not just yet, Lysander."

He shrugged and went to attend his duties, "Aye, captain. I might as well help the others." He chuckled, pulling up his sleeves to aid anyone.

"Don't mind him, Dolores. Lysander is only a boy who cares nothing but his vows," Aaron said as he stood closer to her. "He is young, but he will learn his manners soon."

"It's all right, Aaron. I understand his type. He's carefree, wanting nothing more but a good time." She brushed the hair away from her eyes and carefully observed the distant shoreline. Even though they were quite a few miles away, she could see the vast white sails of several ships and the fading sound of a bell. She let the wind brush past her face, just barely touching her ivory skin.

"What are you thinking?"

She closed her eyes, remembering. "What to wear when we get to shore, and I'm trying my best to be patient."

"Patient? Are you eager?"

"Oh, very eager, Aaron," she admitted to him as she opened her eyes. "I can't wait till I get the chance to do my favorite things. I'm sure that we will be getting the greatest pleasure out of this."

Aaron laughed quietly to himself. "Don't you always?"

"But the other times will not compare to when I will get my hands on what I want. Trust me, Aaron; if you could feel my emotions when it happened to me, you would be angry as well. We were only lucky to find the trail."

She began to unbutton her blouse and return to her cabin to change out of her clothes into something more elegant. Ah, the attention she would receive, being a foreigner and of a totally different fashion. Sometimes she loved being different, but other times, she loathed it.

"Aaron," she said to him before entering the cabin. "Make sure that everyone dresses decent, enough to make them look wealthy. And yourself of course."

"Yes, my lady," he said as he bowed. "I will have them ready in an hour's time for you to approve."

"Good. And one more thing, Aaron."

"Yes?"

"Make sure you bring a whip. I wouldn't want to miss the chance of hurting him. I would hate that. You of all people should know."


	2. Two

**Two**

When the crew stepped off the ship and onto the wharf of Port Royal, all movement seemed to have ceased. The citizens gazed upon people whom they had never seen before. The crew, whom consisted of over thirty men, was clad in similar attire, mostly consisting of white and mauve colored clothing. The six who protected Dolores were dressed in black and crimson. The close-fitting shirts had high collars and it draped down past the hips. Some were made with clasps, hidden beneath the folds, and some had none at all. Others had long baggy sleeves, and there were a few that were sleeveless. All wore the same colored cape, caught in the breeze and flailing without restraint. Anyone who looked upon the six immediately could tell that they were of higher class. Aaron, however, had on also a gold badge over his heart, a token of his ill past. But because he was also the biggest out of the whole group, the people automatically assumed that he was the leader.

"Pleasant folk, aren't they?" Lysander asked under his breath. He turned to his companions and studied quickly their faces. That was when he smiled, "It feels like we are welcome."

"Barely, they're only curious of who we are and what our purpose is. Don't be so quick to think that they have come to greet us warmly." Larz, the second tallest of the six, was the most solemn. When they had jokes or entertainment, he was the last to join and the last to laugh. He had auburn colored hair that was cropped at the shoulders and pulled back by string made from hide. He had bistre colored eyes that would only see the truth. Of them, he was the broadest in the shoulders and a master of the weapons he exerted.

"Perhaps they think we are a circus of some sort and are here to amuse them. We should throw Lys into the center of them and have him perform tricks and gain coin." Lucian was the brightest of the group next to Lysander. To match his cheerful personality, he had vivid blonde hair that was gathered at the nape of his neck. His dazzling emerald eyes were legend in his home land, always full of happiness and cheer. He smiled to Lys, that exquisite smile of his, and turned to his elder, Phineas.

Phineas only glanced at him and faced Aaron instead, silent. Phineas was the quietest of them all, speaking fewer than Aaron. In some ways, he was Aaron's contrast. He was nearly his height, and his figure was perfect, flawless as a child's innocence. His blue black hair fell down to his waist, held together by a black band. His cobalt eyes seemed to go deeper and darker than Aaron's. He was mysterious, stunning, and without fault. He was one of Dolores' favorite.

"Don't bother speaking to him, Lucian; Phineas doesn't like your sort. Now if you don't mind, you should start thinking about finding us a suitable inn." Benedict was the eldest of the six, wise, experienced, and trustworthy. He had long curly brown and red hair that was usually damp from constant activity. He was a unique one, different from the people for miles around. He had two different colored eyes, his left was a blue as clear as the sky and his right was a jade so deep that it matched the shade of forest moss. He held a staff, his weapon, but it seemed harmless though few knew its true self. His staff was like a personification of himself.

"I beg your pardon, but it is not free to let a ship of this size to sit at the harbor."

All six turned to this one man that had spoken aloud to them. He was old, perhaps older than Thatcher. He held a book and quill, and seemed very snobbish for a man. His spectacles hung at the tip of his nose; it was a wonder that they did not fall off. Lucian approached him, and held out a small purse full of coin. He tossed it to the man, who clumsily caught it. "It should be more than enough to situate our ship here. What does it usually cost; five shillings?"

"That it is." The man flushed, shoved the purse into his pocket, and licked the tip of his quill, putting it to the parchment. "And whose name shall I inscribe? I would be punished if it is left unwritten."

"You shall record the name of the ship, Diabolus, and that is all you shall write."

The quill scratched at the parchment furiously. The man trembled as the bulk of Aaron stood before him. Sweat began to form at his forehead and his breathing deepened and sped up. Then he stopped writing and glanced up surprised, "But _who_ presides over this ship?"

"Ask no more, old man," Benedict told him. "It would be a wise thing to do. They, who are merciful, will not always be so willing to forgive and forget. Better yet, to please us, tell us the location of the best tavern in this harbor town."

He trembled upon eye contact with Benedict. The difference in his eyes frightened many; this man was one of them. He nodded and thought carefully. "There is one north of the square, towards the manors of the first estates. I have heard well compliments on it. I'm sure that my lords will enjoy your stay…"

"Well, you are almost correct."

The old man's eyes were curious at Lysander's words. But then Larz stooped to his level and said, "Please, make way. You will be quite bothersome if you block our path. I wouldn't mind if I had to cut some of that frail skin."

Mortified, he made room. The people that crowded the wharf could not tear their eyes away from the gathering of foreigners and the magnificent beauty of the ship. A ship of dark wood and brilliant white sails, there was a mysterious elegance to it that could not be explained.

Phineas moved gracefully onto the dock without anyone noticing until they heard the clicking noise of his boots hitting the wooden floor. The crew made way as did the six, who greeted her immediately. She was absolutely gorgeous in that gown of hers. It was a gown of black and a red that was darker than the color of blood. It fit her tightly above the waist, folding over at her collar and baring her shoulders. The strips of cloth flowed from the shoulders, free and loose, then caught together again at her wrists. The gown streamed generously from her hips, voluminous and smooth letting her move at will. Her cloak, a dye of a forgotten mixture, was put upon her shoulders. Her hair was held up by a pair of black ivory hairpins, decorative and pretty.

Escorted by Phineas, she took careful steps down the ramp and onto the dock. The six surrounded her and waited her commands. She scanned the wharf, taking in the scenery. She turned to her crew and said calmly but loud enough for them to hear, "Thatcher, chose four parties and go into the town to gather what necessities we need. Ten will stay behind to guard the Diabolus. If there are any troubles, you will find us and inform us. Is it clear?"

No one answered, not verbally. They nodded in union, and began to murmur amongst themselves, deciding upon the parties. The old man only stared in awe. Dolores, still clinging to Phineas' arm, began to walk towards the town. Lucian, Larz stood before her, where as Benedict and Lysander stood behind her. Aaron and Phineas always stood by her side when they docked and entered a city. They refused to leave her presence unless commanded. She didn't mind, she looked to these six as close companions, even if they were a bit odd.

"Aaron, I want you to take Larz, Benedict, and Lysander with you. Phineas, Lucian and I will await you in the town square." She pulled out a small envelope, sealed with wax and handed it to him. "When you find him, give him this, but do not let him see any of you. I do not want him to so quickly discover my arrival. I would rather him astonished than afraid." She sighed, "Oh, how I yearn to feel his neck pulse under my fingers."

Lys chuckled aloud, "Would your hand even fit around a man's neck?"

"If not, Lys," she responded. "I will have to resort to my fingernails. They're thick enough to pierce an animal's hide. Better yet, your skull."

"And that is something that cannot be penetrated easily," Lucian laughed. "I cannot even draw a drop of blood when I strike him with a kitchen knife."

She had to smile at that. They always teased Lysander about him having a thick skull that could not receive even the easiest of instructions. Aaron took the letter and it disappeared beneath his cape. He turned to leave, and his hand brushed her cheek, a habit and his way of showing his concern for her. Larz, Benedict, and Lysander turned on their heel and followed Aaron. Dolores, Phineas, and Lucian kept walking, without ever even glancing at the other four. They trusted each other. They knew that there was no one that could harm them.

"Dolores," Lucian asked. "What will you do when he does find you? You have made numerous amounts of letters, giving him clues to where you are and leading him to a trap. Do you think he will fall for it?"

"I am sure he will follow the clues, but I am not so sure that he will fall into the trap. He may seem stubborn, but he is a clever man. Do not underestimate him." She fingered the ring on her right hand, remembering the harsh things he had done to her. "Do not underestimate him if you want to live."


	3. Three

**Three**

Left in front of right; right in front of left. As long as he kept it like that, he would be fine. Or so he thought. He couldn't walk straight nor could he even see properly. But then again, when was he _not_ like that? He squinted, but the best he could make out was the blurred shapes of people moving around him. But they weren't important. Headed for his favorite tavern, he tried his best not to trip on the smooth ground or over his feet.

Rum. It was all that he could think of. It was his life source. That was his belief.

Jack sat at the pub, drinking the rum like one would drink water. He didn't care for any of the other drunks surrounding him. He stared at the bottle hungrily. It was his one true love after all.

Everyone knew who he was; how could they not? He was Captain of the Black Pearl, the fastest ship of the seas. It was how they recognized him. That and of his public almost hanging. He was thankful that Will had saved him, thankful that he was able to find a friend in such a corrupted world. Anna-Maria was now his woman, as he liked to call her. Of course, she wasn't the most beautiful of girls, but he did love her.

Leaning back in the chair with his boots on the table, he called for another bottle of rum. They answered him gratefully, happy to serve him. He took the last sip of his rum and placed the bottle on the table. He waited patiently for Will to join him. He didn't even realize how long he had been waiting there.

_Darn boy,_ he thought,_ always late; must be busy with that Elizabeth of his._

There came a tap at his shoulder, and thinking that it was that wretched kid, he said without looking, "About time, lad. I've already had three bottles just waiting for you."

"I beg your pardon," came a soft stuttering voice.

Jack looked to see a boy who was probably only ten of age. He shuddered, holding an envelope in his hand. In the other there was a small purse of coins, a purse made of velvet. The purse and the boy did not match for the boy was poor, of the third estates, but the purse seemed to belong to someone of high authority. Jack knew then that the boy was paid. But he showed no difference.

"Well, lad, have you come to join me for a drink?" he thrust the newly brought bottle at the boy's face, startling him. The boy shook his head furiously and shoved the letter at Jack with frightful eyes. Jack took the letter gently, and the boy ran off without ever so much as glancing back. It left Jack stunned, curious, and unsatisfied. He looked at the letter.

It was in perfect condition, without a wrinkle or crease. Sealed with wax, Jack carefully studied the stamp. But it was no use; he did not recognize the crest. Exquisite as it was, he was fearful. He looked around for any possible persons that could have sent the child. To his dismay, there was no such person.

"Jack!"

He jumped out of his seat as a hand heavily landed on his shoulder. Jack's body fell to the ground clumsily, as did the chair, the table, and the bottles, all but for one. Jack gripped the full bottle of rum like a mother would a babe, protecting it. The people in the tavern turned and stared, some laughed, some gasped in worry for him. But all he did was lay on the ground, unmoving.

Will bent down and looked down at Jack's figure. "I didn't scare you did I, Jack?"

Jack's emotionless face stared blindly before him. He licked his lips, tasting the last of the rum and said sarcastically, "No, Will. You did not. I just happened to fall because of your immense weight on my shoulder." He abruptly sat up and pouted at Will, "Of course you did, you scallywag!"

"Well then, my deepest apologies, Jack, for that and being late. Elizabeth wouldn't let me go."

"Are you sure that you weren't the one that refused to leave? I doubt she is the type to hold on like that, mate. It hasn't been that long since you stole her from Norrington, eh?"

"I didn't steal her!"

"Oh, shut up." Jack stood up and fixed the table and chair, not bothering with the broken glass. Taking a swig of rum, he looked at the envelope once again.

"What's that? A love letter, perhaps? Anna-Maria will not be happy."

"Don't make fun, you fool." Jack's expression turned serious, as he inspected the envelope. He broke the wax seal and pulled out the letter. His hand shook as he unfolded it, unsure why though. He read the four lines written in the center in skilled calligraphy.

_Greetings_

_Captain Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl_

_And_

_William Turner son of Bootstrap Bill Turner_

_I bring you tidings, but do not look to expect benefit from me._

_You should fear me, as others fear the Devil._

_Ill fortune heads your way and I lead the battalion._


	4. Four

**Four**

She curtsied low, with a smile planted on her lips, her head tilted towards the ground. The six bowed behind her, out of courtesy. Unlike her, they did not smile, Phineas least of all.

"My lady! There is no reason for such civility! Come, come, stand! We are grateful to receive your company in this household, ever so grateful!"

She straightened, still with that happy expression of hers, "It is our pleasure to be accepted into your household. Are you certain we aren't intruding? Everyone seems so busy today…"

"No, no! Not at all! We are only making early preparations for my daughter's wedding, you aren't intruding at all!" Governor Weatherby Swann, whose face was wrinkled from his smile, motioned them to follow him, leading them deeper into the manor. "Welcome to my home. It's humble, but do not hesitate to make yourself comfortable. I am sure your residence is far greater than this."

"Oh, Governor, you are flattering. It isn't much different." If only he knew what she lived in and _where_! Ah, the envy on his face would please her. "Your home is very lovely," she lied.

"Thank you, Duchess."

The six trailed behind Dolores, keeping an eye out for any familiar face. Lysander and Lucian, both equally curious, could not help but stare in awe at the several swords that hung off the walls.

"So, Duchess, what brings you to this place? There isn't much to see here."

"Ah, but there _are_ sights to see. There are the people that I look forward to meeting, and I have heard great stories of your legendary ships, especially one called the Interceptor. "

"The Interceptor…" His face darkened with memory, "I know which one you speak of. A pity it does not exist now. Yes, Duchess, it is gone. It was destroyed two years past."

Dolores faked a frown, "It is a pity…" It's not like she hadn't known how it was ruined. Her sources were reliable and accurate; she knew that Jack Sparrow and the bastard son of Bootstrap had united and took that ship for their own. She also knew that it was blown to pieces by order of Barbosa.

Captain Barbosa, a feared man and yet very foolish, was dead now. She remembered him clearly as if she had seen him just the day before. He was, of course, an acquaintance. And he had been affected by the Curse about a decade ago, and dead for only two years.

"I hope you will enjoy your stay, Duchess. How long do you wish to reside in Port Royal?" the Governor's wig seemed to be glued to his scalp no matter how he turned his little head.

"As much time as is needed until I am finished."

"You have business in Port Royal?"

"You could say so."

"Elizabeth! Such a coincidence! Come here! I want you to meet someone very special! Here," he said as he took his daughter's hand. "This is my daughter, Elizabeth. She is to be wed in two weeks! Elizabeth, this is a Duchess of Corsica.

Elizabeth, beautiful beyond any imagination, curtsied low, smiling. Ah! Was she ever exquisite! Dolores copied her action as well, not tearing her eyes from Elizabeth's lovely face. She stood and grinned, "Congratulations, Elizabeth, on your wedding."

"Thank you, Duchess. You and the crew are welcome to attend if you wish. I would gladly accept your attendance," she said. Even her voice was heavenly.

"I will attend. It is a promise."

"Wonderful!" the Governor exclaimed. "Duchess, if you wish, you can freshen yourself and wash away the salt of the sea and join us for dinner. My servants will take you to your quarters."

"Thank you, Governor, I am indebted to you."

"Oh, no! There are no debts! It is my sure pleasure to have such company. I'm sure happy times will fill my home and Port Royal."

A wicked smile crept its way onto her face, "We can only hope."

It was in her room that she spoke to the six. They stood by the fireplace, waiting patiently. Two handmaidens of the Swann household set up a screen of mahogany wood and helped Dolores undress. The six kept their backs turned as she crossed to the bath, separated from them by a white curtain. The Swanns were not as 'humble' as they claimed. The bathtub was made of a white marble lined with yellow gold. She dipped herself into the hot water and let the handmaiden throw in handfuls of rose petals.

She dismissed the two girls, who blushed as they passed the six. Dolores wet her arms and dripped some water down her chest. Oh, how good it felt. She sunk herself in neck deep and closed her eyes for a moment.

"Dolores, how is it that you tricked the Governor into thinking that you were the Duchess of Corsica?" Larz asked.

"Careful, Larz, if one of his servants hear you, you'll be the one to do the cleaning," Benedict warned.

"Have you all forgotten? Mother _was_ Duchess of Corsica, and since she passed, I inherited her title."

"Do you not have a brother or cousin?"

"Yes, I have male relatives, but they were all killed in that ship that Aaron found me in. I am of the last of my line. Whether or not they believe me alive or dead is their own concern. I have the title by my own right."

"_They_ as in the King and Queen?"

"Right, any ruler of any nation. And I still have the amulet that my mother was known for. I doubt the Governor will inform England of my appearance, he doesn't seem that bright. And even if he does, we will be gone by the time they get here."

"And what of the Swanns? We only use them for their lodgings?"

"No. My reasons go deeper. Do you not know, Lysander, who Elizabeth Swann is?"

He shook his head, "She is important to you, Dolores?"

"She is important as a key, Lys. I do not care for her." She looked towards them through the white mesh curtain. "After I'm done, you can have her if you wish. I could care less for that brat."

Larz, Lucian, and Lysander smirked, turned to each other and agreed on a bet: a drinking game. The last man standing would be the one to take Elizabeth for himself.

"Don't be too excited yet, boys," Dolores told them. "We still have unfinished business with an old friend of ours."

"Friend? Dolores, don't kid," Aaron said loudly. "I would cut open my own throat before I ever become friends with him."

She went quiet for a moment then instructed them what to do next. "The letter is on the desk. When you're done, come back, hopefully in time for dinner."

"Dolores? May I go this time?" Lucian asked innocently.

Almost glad that he had asked, she waved them off. The five bowed, their fists over their hearts, and quit the room, leaving Phineas staring at the fire and Dolores soaking in the tub.

"What are you thinking of, Count? What gears turn in that closed mind of yours?" She played with the petals, ripping some of them. "Why does the legendary Count of the Devil Islands not share his thoughts? Hmm?"

No answer.

"There never is an answer, is there? Will there ever be a time when I can hear your voice again?"

Still nothing.

There was the sound of water splashing and footsteps. Phineas turned around to behold Dolores in only a loose black silk robe. Her hair was wet and dripped water onto the floor. She placed her hands flat against his hard chest, where she leaned her head next to it.

"I hear your heartbeat, Count. It beats strong as it always has. It is a smooth rhythm, even and without worry. I hear it, I feel it. There are things I yearn for, and things that I wish that I will never encounter again. But you, Count, you are something different. I know it. I sense it. I only wish to hear your voice again, just once. But if not this day, then I will wait for another. I will wait, as I have waited through these years."

Phineas did nothing. He stared out the window at the setting of the sun, allowing Dolores to rest on him. He did not take any action that she desired. Dolores, the most feared woman of the seas and yet the most desired. She showed no mercy to those who gave her no regard. She took and she seized, and on the rare occasion, she would give. Only he knew her sorrow within, only he knew her true thoughts.

Though she did as much as she could for him, he did nothing in return.


	5. Five

**Five**

Nearly a week had passed and she had sent him only four letters, each with few wording. She liked it, it kept him in suspense. Tomorrow, it would be Elizabeth's engagement party, and she would be attending. She was sure that he would be there too. Oh the excitement had her gripping her knuckles till they were white from the pressure. Elizabeth had also taken a liking to Dolores. She was quite open and treated her like a best friend.

Almost.

But still, the Governor's daughter had told Dolores more than enough. She knew more of course, but she still wanted to hear it from Elizabeth's mouth; her side of the story.

"Captain Barbosa had kidnapped me. He was a very direct man. When he had demanded your answer, he wanted every detail, not certain points because if you were not descriptive enough, you would not get what you wanted. I remember his face very clearly. I stabbed him once," she said sadly. "But nothing had happened, for he was cursed and could not die."

Dolores sat listening. She knew the stories, she knew every bit. But she still enjoyed listening to them from a different angle and perspective. "Oh, how terrible," she exclaimed, faking an astonished expression. "And you had survived it all without getting hurt?"

"Oh, no. They had spilt my blood, thinking it would work, but I was not the one they were looking for." Elizabeth showed her the scar upon her left hand. It was long and thick, but it was almost as if it was fresh. Dolores had the urge to cut the poor girl again but she resisted.

"It must have been quite the adventure, Elizabeth, for a girl your age and status, doing such things must have never crossed your mind." Dolores put on her glove and stood up. She straightened the creases on her dress and curtsied to Elizabeth. "You must forgive me, but I have a few errands to attend to in town. Do you wish to accompany me?"

"No, it's all right. I won't bother you. I must go and make a few more arrangements. The engagement party is tomorrow night, if you haven't forgotten." She too curtsied low and her untainted face beamed with happiness. "I look forward to seeing you and the crew then, and tonight at dinner."

Dolores left her alone then, not before Elizabeth had informed her that her that her engagement party would be a masquerade. Masks. Oh, the amusement she could have with this. She had another letter to give him. Just one, before she would see him at the party. It had been many years since she had seen him last. Many long, aggravating years.

A masquerade. It gave her the perfect idea then. Quickly, she went to her room and grabbed some parchment and a quill. She sketched them out with haste and amazing skill.

"Lysander, take this to Governor Swann, and ask him nicely if it's possible to have one mask made of each sheet for each of us for tomorrow night."

She blew on them, drying the ink. He took them from her, admiring her skill. "Yes, my lady. But what are they for?"

"Tomorrow is a masquerade. Boys," she said as she leaned back in her chair, fiddling with the quill. "We're going to have a lot of fun, particularly with him."

"Another letter tonight, Dolores?" Benedict asked her. The six sat on the gorgeous divan, most of them playing with their daggers. Beautiful as they were individually, they each had their own unique darkness and wariness.

"Two letters, Benedict. One for his companion as well. Do not forget, both of them are pirates. And every pirate should not be left out or forgotten. Especially when they've done something terribly wrong." She snapped the quill and clenched it in her fist.

"A horrible mistake he has done, aye, m'lady?"

"Aye."

"Did you know, Governor, that there still are several pirate ships out there, even if you thought the Black Pearl was the last of them?" Dolores informed Governor Weatherby Swann.

"I've heard as much. I was told that their number is slowly increasing again."

They sat drinking tea only a little after noon. He had asked her to join him in the morn, and how could she refuse? He was humble, as much as she did dislike him. He was kind and a bit foolish, nothing compared to his former self.

"What is the biggest threat now, Governor?"

"One ship. One oddly powerful pirate ship. I've heard only rumors and whispers but none of which I could be sure was true. But," he continued. "I did receive a clue to its name."

She sipped her tea, faking interest.

"It is something to do with hell, nothing glamorous like the Black Pearl, mysterious and cunning. Only now are we getting closer to it. Jack Sparrow seems to know it, but he won't tell."

"Jack? Jack Sparrow? The one that rescued your daughter, yes?"

"Yes, him and her fiancé, Will Turner."

"She told me stories. You must be gracious to have a son in law such as bold as him."

He nodded.

Dolores had enough of what she wanted and needed to hear. "I have already given the list of who will be attending from my party. Will the masks be ready for us tonight?"

"Absolutely, my lady. We will deliver them to your quarters. Do you have clothing to match them?"

"We do, Governor. Do not worry of us."

"We look forward to your attendance. I'm sure everyone will be surprised at your arrival."

She smiled, friendly enough to fool him, "At least one will be."


	6. Six

**Six**

Grand as the ballroom was, it was hard to believe that there was such one inside the Swann household. All sorts of people were there, from some of the least important to the most important. Commodore Norrington was attending of course, and from the looks of his face, he was very happy for Elizabeth. According to rumors, he had found himself a lover. She was pretty, though not as lovely as Elizabeth. She was one of the young noblewomen in Port Royal, and they had met a little while after Jack's grand escape, tripping and falling into the ocean. They did look like a perfect match.

As for Dolores and her six men, they were presented and introduced properly by the announcer, a short little man that read from a long scroll of names. He seemed hesitant at first, astonished at the names, but he read them.

"The Duchess of Corsica, the Earl of London, the Count of the Devil Islands, the Baron of Madrid, the Baron of Paris, the Baron of Rome, and the High Priest of Dublin."

It was a long list of names, but it had to be done. Dolores had designed their masks, each to their fitting and to the meaning of their name. She was proud of it, and she also had designed each of their garments, made overnight by a well known tailor shop. She paid them well.

Aaron wore a white and gold mask, signifying the sun and the heavens. His clothes were of mostly gold and a bit of white and its fashion was beyond amazement. It had a high collar and a cape that covered half his chest, reaching over his right shoulder. It draped on his left, ever so long and flowing. Underneath, he had on a sleeveless top, tight enough that it showed his muscles underneath. His trousers were white that shined gold. They fell loosely and comfortable. Around his waist was a thick belt made from animal hide, with a gold clasp to finish it off. His leather white boots were stunning and one of a kind. Aaron, dressed as he was to the meaning of his name, was the Enlightened.

Phineas' cloak had a collar so high that it only showed his striking blue eyes. It flowed around him, covering everything so that it was hidden, as a secret. Underneath, he wore a tunic, metallic blue in color and silk in texture. His black breeches ended with a pair of black galoshes. His mask was the color of the night sky, perfected with the silver of diamonds to indicate the stars in the sky. The feathers of peacocks were placed on it, nearly hiding every feature of his face. His blue black hair was set free, and it moved around him like water. Phineas was as mysterious as his meaning, the Oracle.

Larz was dressed in the deepest color of evergreen that could be found. His style was that of an older fashioned poet, proud and perfect as he could be. His emerald mask had an actual white quill attached to the side, a great and superb addition. Larz was solemn, and a deep thinker. Thus, he depicted the Laurel.

Dressed in all white, Lucian was like Aaron's double. His garment flowed from his shoulders down. Based on the customary designs of the eastern country, China, the clothing split right under the thick yellow belt on the outside of his legs, revealing white velvet. His mask was even of that Asian design as were his shoes. Bright as he was, he symbolized the Light.

Benedict, the High Priest of Dublin, wore his traditional robes of emerald and white. The green iron looking mask had no special designs, only showing his unique eyes. He held his staff, his support and his weapon. Though young for an Elder Priest, he was known and respected. His robes moved in the fashion of the wind and had the crest of his family embroidered over his chest. Truly, Benedict was the Blessed.

Lysander was in the darkest of grays, from the feathers on his mask to the very shoes that he wore. But he was unique, for he was the smallest of the six, and the quickest. His attire was designed so that he could move freely and without bother. His mask covered all of his face, limiting the words that he could speak. It was her intention, of course. Shaped like the Grecian masks of the olden Gladiators, the mask showed only one eye, the other was hidden beneath a metal mesh. Lys was shown as the Liberator.

Dolores was surrounded by the six, concealed behind curtains of robes and cloth. Dolores was in the deepest of blacks, a gown that reached high to her throat and around her neck, ending in a knot and leaving two exceptionally long ribbons drape down to her waist. From her hips it fell in flawless folds, just barely brushing the marble floor. It dipped dangerously low at her back, revealing an image that was branded into her skin by needles and ink. It was a black widow, a spider of deadly poison. Its body was situated at the middle of her back, and its legs sprawled from the nape of her neck, across her back, and reached down to the end of her spine. It was an old marking, but one of great significance. Black gloves went past her elbows and a silver ring was set on her finger. The mask she wore covered her eyes, showing her porcelain like skin and blush colored lips. Blackest of blacks and the brightest of diamonds, it gave Dolores a great mysterious look. To finish it off, there was a black veil that covered her face, shadowing her features.

Such was Dolores, our lady of Sorrows.

"Duchess, you are very lovely tonight!" Governor Swann took her black gloved hand and kissed it. When he straightened, he looked upon the six with awe. "I had not known that your guardians were nobles of such high class."

"It is nothing, Governor. They are my most trusted companions, and they could never be replaced. Noble of status as they are, one should not misjudge any of them. They are skilled beyond imagination, Governor Swann; that is why I chose them."

A childish smile grew on the old man's face. "And to think I had actually thought that you had found them off some pirate ship."

Dolores truly laughed then, "Oh, Governor, you have such a clever mind."

But he took it as a joke and laughed with her, "Please enjoy the masquerade, and do not hesitate to meet some people."

She watched him chatter away towards a couple. Several stared at them, awed at their variety and individual uniqueness. The seven of them went off to their own corner so she could sit and enjoy a cup of wine.

"It wasn't necessary to announce our titles, Dolores, we aren't of that great importance," Benedict, High Priest of Dublin, was a modest man; he didn't like boasting his title.

"He's right, Dolores, it doesn't change much."

"But there you are wrong, Larz. Since they know who we are now, they will be wary of us and no one will attempt to bother us," she said, sipping the wine. "But, it might draw thieves and crooks, so you will enjoy a bit of beneficial pleasure."

"Only you would enjoy reasonless slaughter," Aaron said flatly.

She grinned at him, chuckling under her breath at how well he knew her. It was a moment later when Elizabeth approached them, arm in arm with the man that had rescued her from the clutches of Barbosa.

Behind a mask, Elizabeth was as mysterious as the depths of the ocean.

Clothed from head to toe in gold, she wore a gown of unbelievable beauty. She was like a single diamond on black velvet, precious and more valuable than anything else around. The gold pieces lined the gown like the stars lined the night sky. She held a fan in her laced hands and her curled hair was pinned delicately on her head.

But young William Turner was nothing that Dolores had expected. For his age, he was in his prime, worked till his muscles could expand no more, and tanned to golden amber. His sun streaked auburn hair was left loose and his perfect brows and high cheeks were only a sample of what made him so gorgeous. The older he became, the more he looked like his father.

"Duchess!" Elizabeth approached them, happy and without any idea who Dolores was. She gave her the kiss of greeting and took her hand and her fiancé's. "I want you to meet my fiancé, William Turner. Darling, this is Dolores, Duchess of Corsica. She is a very kind woman, and a dear friend."

William bowed at the waist and took Dolores' hand and kissed it lightly. "My lady," he said in a voice that was as deep and smooth as his father's. His grace surprised Dolores, for from what she had heard, he was rough and a tough man. He probably had practice.

"You are very lucky, Elizabeth, to have found such a man. There are many who would envy you, a girl who has found true love out in the ocean." Dolores did not remove her mask or veil, for she did not find it necessary in front of Elizabeth or William. She would deem it fit when she chose to.

"You are very flattering, Duchess," William blushed; something that was unlike his father.

Dolores gently dipped her head at him. She looked around him, but was unable to see the man that had lost the Black Pearl several times, and in the end, stole it back from the man that had taken it away from him. "But where is the legendary pirate that I have heard of; the man that had escaped the entire Royal Navy times uncounted and has been given royal clemency by the King and Queen themselves?"

William lifted his hand to speak, but stopped and laughed as he heard a cry. They all looked to the center of the ballroom to see what seemed to be a drunken man. His matted hair and his dark skin and eyes were full of bliss and happiness. His black hat sat on his head, about to fall off. His clothes were clean and colorful, matching his mood. He laughed, genuinely laughed and nearly toppled over his own feet while holding a bottle of liquor. Others joined him in his amusing act; some kept their distance but enjoyed what they saw.

"Good evening, Elizabeth my sweet! And you, Will, you poor excuse of a man! I love this party! Drinks surrounding me! Endless and free!" he cried, slipping on a few words here and there.

"Stop it!" Will chuckled as he caught him in his arms. "Someone wants to meet you."

Jack looked at the woman in black, ignoring the six that surrounded her. His expression changed then. A shadow seemed to pass over his face and his clumsiness disappeared. His body straightened and he pushed William away.

"This is the Duchess of Corsica," Elizabeth presented.

He took one deep breath then, and finished her introduction, "Dolores."


End file.
